


keep it up

by weatheredlaw



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Chair Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, Human GLaDOS, Human Wheatley, Light Dom/sub, Vaginal Fisting, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's going to kill him. She really is. </p><p>That's why she kisses him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep it up

**Author's Note:**

> i have literally been trying to write portal fic for months now. this was not what i ever intended to write first oh boy.

He's always late. Without fail, he will be fifteen minutes late to the office, two cups of coffee in his hand, trying to act like he just forgot what time it was. "Drive thru line was _insane_ ," he always says. "Gotcha something, though. Thoughtful of me, I think. Tiny bit of milk. Absolutely no sugar, I know how you're not that into sweet things."

"Stop talking," she says, taking the coffee and going. 

Glados won't admit to enjoying the treat every now and again, and no one will ever get her to say it out loud. She doesn't tell anyone anything, really. Talking to people she doesn't know or like isn't a strong suit of hers. 

The fact that they're mostly alone doesn't hurt either.

 

 

 

"Did you check the status of cryo?" she asks. 

"I certainly did. Everything in tip-top shape down there. Could wake 'em all up tomorrow and have eight-hundred perfectly healthy testers up here, just waiting to give us a show."

Glados feels a slight twitch at the thought -- she'd loved watching the testing before the facility shut down, when she was younger and interning and Wheatley was just a guy she knew in R&D who asked her to movies and only smiled and said, "Well, next time, love," whenever she said no. He hasn't asked her out in so long, but she'd say no. Probably.

God, the places her thoughts go.

"Let Rick know," is all she says before going back to her own workspace. Spending too much time with Wheatley makes her remember that she's more than a little desperate, and he is, on occasion, a tiny bit endearing. Operative words there being _on occasion_ and _tiny_. He shrugs and turns his chair around as she goes. Used to be he'd fight to get her to stay. 

Used to be that way. 

She's at the door before she decides to turn around and say, "Maybe I could work in here. Just today. I need to have my AC adjusted. It's...it's cold. In there." 

Wheatley turns toward her, face curled up in confusion. "You're serious."

"It's January."

"No, I mean..." He glances at his feet. "Yeah, alright. Be fun, having someone in here."

Glados nods. "Right." That's a good word for it, she figures. "Fun." 

 

 

 

She starts working with him a few times a week, just to start. It's fun, sure, but she can only take so much. Wheatley has the inane talent of being able to talk for long periods of time without pause, and it's the exact opposite of white noise. But still, it's enjoyable enough. It doesn't make her want to kill him any less, but she's reached a very strange juncture in her feelings for him where she's torn being wrapping her hands around his neck, or just going down on him.

That last part is incredibly revelatory, even for her. 

"So I took note of the things you said, and I brought you a chai latte, because that 'you don't like sweet things' was a joke. Between me and myself. About the fact that you are _sometimes_ , and I do mean sometimes, incredibly mean."

Glados raises an eyebrow and takes the cup. "Do I say thank you to that?"

"You do if you're in a good mood."

She takes a sip. "Well. Thank you."

"Ah _ha_. You _are_ in a good mood. I knew it. Knew I could figure out a way to solve that one. Point for Wheatley, as it is. Not that I'm competing with anyone. Or playing a game. Assigning myself points is more of just a general way to keep score for myself, to make me feel better. Sort of like my, ah. Chart of gold stars. But with points. That pertain to the general 'us' I suppose. Not that there _is_ an _us_ , but you know--" 

She's going to kill him. She really is. 

That's why she kisses him instead. 

" _Mmph!_ " Glados presses him against the wall and twists her fingers in his hair, keeping him close. He melts in her hands, eagerly kissing back, like he's been primed for _this exact moment_ since he met her. Who knows, maybe he has. She lifts her knee up between his legs, gently, and he groans. It's been a while for her, but she remembers exactly how to do this. 

Glados is going to get what she wants. She suspects Wheatley will, too. 

She has every intention of blowing him, but he pushes her back, back and back until she bumps his desk and she's suddenly laid back on it and he's on his knees, shoving her work skirt up and out of the way, tugging at her underwear to look at her cunt. She's wet and she isn't embarrassed about it. Wheatley pushes one finger experimentally inside her and she moans, hoping that the noise communicates what she wants to say, but can't seem to -- _that isn't enough, you annoying little punk, I swear to God_ \-- he pushes two more in and _that's_ exactly the kind of friction she wanted.

"That's right, love." He's standing now, over her, three fingers shoved inside her, fucking her slowly while the thumb of his other hand reaches to circle her clit. "That's good. Beautiful, really. Never would have thought you'd get this needy for it, but hey. Not complaining." He tilts his head to one side, curious. "You could take more though, couldn't you?" Glados nods, and she feels him start to push a fourth finger into her, going slow and careful, cautious with his motions now. "I think you'd look even better, you know, if I just--" He pushes in a little harder, knuckles starting to stretch her. 

" _Fuck_ \--"

"I thought so. I mean, I hadn't until just now. But the idea _is_ one of my better ones." He starts stretching her now, and she knows this is going to be tight and it's going to be full, but the idea of his fist in her is overwhelming and makes her beg. "I wouldn't think that would be a good look on you, but here we are. And here it is."

"You're incredibly annoying," she manages.

"Well, you're the one taking it." 

He isn't wrong. 

There's a moment where she's worried this isn't going to work. He isn't going to fit, she's going to regret everything -- but he does and she doesn't and she's suddenly _full full full_ and he's working her over, teasing her and thrusting his fist in carefully, his lips turned up in the kind of smile she wouldn't think to see on him. Needy, wicked, a little bit knowing. Like he always thought this was what she wanted, and figuring it out is only making it better. 

"I want to feel you come. I think that's reasonable, isn't it?"

"You're the one in charge here," she snaps, because it's true. Saying it out loud, though, produces a visible shiver from him. She doesn't have to tell him it makes her feel the same way. "God, _please_."

"Aw, I don't think you've ever been that nice to me. Well, except for this right now." He sighs and nods. "Yes, alright. I suppose if you _must_ \--" He doesn't even finish and she's coming, clenching around him, head thrown back as she grasps at what she can on the table. Which is mostly nothing. He pulls out, and it leaves her feeling hollow and strange and she wishes she had something to hold onto.

Wheatley looks at her, his mouth hanging open. She wonders if she could just get him off by staring at him with her legs spread, but he seems to have more stamina than that. He collapses into the chair in front of the desk and watches her. She notes that his hand is wet, that he's done nothing about it. She takes it and wipes it off with her skirt. He stares at the wet spot, hungry. 

"We aren't done," she says.

"We aren't," he agrees, and undoes the belt of his slacks, stopping when she stands on shaky legs and reaches forward to undo the button and zipper. She pulls his cock out and strokes it. She could go down on him like she wanted, but she's so wet, it would be so easy to just slide onto him and fuck herself stupid. 

So she does that. 

He's skinny, but his hands are strong under her thighs, steadying her as she gets into his lap and lifts herself up. He's a good size, and even though he was just spreading her wide on the table behind them, it's still tight, still _good_ when she finally gets him completely in. Neither says much as it happens. She fucks him and he watches her, mouth open and dazed. There's a gentle stroke of his fingers over her thighs, the slick wetness that has dripped over them and is ruining his pants and her skirt. Doesn't matter. She's getting what she wants. 

They both are. 

It's hard to come like this, and Glados doesn't, not really. She's still reeling from the aftershocks of before, but she knows he's close. She'd rather not have him come inside her, it's messy and unorganized and hard to deal with. He has the good sense to tell her when he's close, and she forces herself off of him, moaning at the emptiness and dropping hard to her knees. 

He doesn't last long in her mouth. Maybe it's a good idea, maybe it isn't, but she swallows him down, not interested in having come in her hair. 

For a while, they stay just like this -- her on her knees, looking up at him while he stares down at her. 

"That was brilliant," is all he can say. It forces a laugh out of her, surprising them both. "Um."

He shoved his fist in her and _fucked_ her, and suddenly her laughter is making things awkward. Figures.

"We should work," she says.

"Eh." Wheatley stands and straightens his pants. She's still on the floor. "Uh, here." He helps her up and awkwardly hands her the underwear he pulled off. "We could work. Or we could go somewhere else."

"The facility--"

"Has been running the same way it always has for years. I think it'll be fine if we take off early to spend some quality time together in a less awkward place than my office."

Logic isn't his strong suit, that belongs to some other division -- but she can't argue with the reasoning. Mostly because she doesn't want to.

"Fine. But this time I'm in charge."

"I'm incredibly excited, and, honestly? Not at all surprised. Lead the way then, love."


End file.
